so first i want to thank my two lone reviewers for their support, it means alot to me. I know the first chater didn't offfer up much and i'm sure this next chapter will offer a bit less, but there is a method to my maddness, i promise. :D
T again, for language.
summary: Lauren travels between worlds. she meets alt-brandon who remembers her mother and then she meets walternate, her grandfather.
if i owned this, there would be a multitude of Peter babies
"Get out."
The stern voice of the British man invaded her sleepy mind and she cracked an eye open to find it to be mid day somewhere. There was a heavy fog overhead darkening everything, and Lauren rolled over still trying to pull herself from her stupor when the burly man that had tackled her yanked her wrists together and snapped then into a zip tie. He hauled her up by the waist, swinging her over his shoulder and walking with her. Lauren beat the man's back with her fists in a futile attempt to hurt him. He swung her around, her legs hitting a doorframe and she cried out before stopping her movements.
"I'm perfectly capable of walking," she snapped as the man holding grunt in strain to open the motel door. Once opened, he carried her through the room and pushed aside the bathroom door, dumping her into the cold bathtub.
"Comfy?" asked the British man from the doorway.
"Five star hotel," she answered sardonically. The man chuckled.
"Well you certainly sound like him. And you do look like him, a bit. Prettier," he said, pushing off the doorframe.
"Who?" Lauren asked. But she wasn't going to get an answer as he shut the door. Scrambling to her feet she pounded on the door, turning the handle to find they had jammed something underneath it.
"If you keep it down," said the British man, "Then we won't have to sedate you."
"Sounds like a plan," she shot back, kicking the door hard. Turning back around she plopped down on the toilet and sighed angrily. What did these men want with her? She had never seen them before in her life, who were they? She shoved her hair from her face in an angry motion before settling back down and laying on the floor. Where was she even? Was she even in New Mexico anymore? What if these men had kidnapped her for human trafficking? Panic spread through her. But they knew her. They knew her. They knew her first name and last name. They were looking for her. What did she have? She was nothing special, right?
There was a scraping sound against the door and it swung open to reveal the burly man that had carried her in there.
"Looks like you'll be departing sooner than expected," he said, reaching for her. She scrambled to stand, but his hand grabbed the back of her knee and dragged her to him. She twisted and kicked him in the knee and he growled angrily through gritted teeth, but hauled her up against him, tossing her once again over his shoulder.
"I'm not a sack of potatoes!" she said pointedly at him, "Didn't your mother teach you any manners?"
"Didn't yours?" he answered as he walked.
"I don't think they apply to KIDNAPPERS."
"Shut up, Bishop."
That seemed to clam her up. No one had called her by her last name in a long time. She was just Lauren, L or Wren. She never was 'Bishop'. It wasn't even her mother's last name. Her mom was Dunham. She assumed it was her fathers, naturally. The man carried her into the room and tossed her down onto the bed. Panic set through her and terror flickered across her face.
"Relax Love," the British man sneered unhappily, "We're under orders to not harm you."
"Oh, well that's a relief," she answered coolly. "So when does my five star meal come?"
"You'll be out of here soon enough," the man said with an aggravated tone, "And then we won't have to deal with you." The man pulled out a fun device from his pocket and opened it. She heard some clacking and then he snapped it shut, nodding to the sandy haired man.
"Now love," the man said as he moved over to a briefcase near the T.V, "This will hurt if your struggle. So relax and you'll be fine. It'll be less of a mess for us here as well."
The sandy haired man spun around with a gun of some kind in his hand. He approached Lauren and yanked her arms out. Pressing the cool metal to her skin he pressed the trigger and she felt pain shoot through her left palm.
"Fuck!" she said loudly," That hurt."
The British man titled his head. The man placed it to her other hand and squeezed the trigger. It hurt less this time.
"Roll over," he commanded to her. Lauren glared and took a second too long to move, as the burly man that treated her as a vegetable sack flipped her and lifted the hem of her shirt.
"He-OUCH!" she said as the metal was pressed to her back. She was released and rolled over to stare at the men. The British man looked at his watch.
"Any moment now," he said. "Our meeting has been brief love, but certainly enjoyable."
"I have name," she growled.
"Have fun over there Bishop," he said in a condescending tone, "You might want to close your eyes now."
"What are y-"
But she was unable to finish her sentence as she felt a warm hum coming from her hands and back. Staring down at her hands she watched them glow and unnatural shade of red before they started vibrating back and forth. Lauren lifted her eyes in panic, meeting the face of the British man. He raised his hand and waved, a sudden blue flash blinding her. She shut her eyes as she felt like she was ripping apart at the seams for a split second. Then suddenly, the feeling was gone and all she felt was dizzy. She opened her eyes and blinked, adjusting to a very bright light flashing in her face.
She squeezed her eyes shut and peeked one open, adjusting still to the light. The invasion of the white made her head throb and she inhaled, feeling as if she wasn't getting enough air. Panicking, she popped both eyes open and struggled with breathing, fear written across her face.
"Relax," came a voice she had never heard before, "You'll be able to breathe regularly in a moment."
Lauren raised her hands to her face and brushed a strand of hair from her eyes before opening them again.
She wasn't in the hotel room she had been taken to. Instead she was greeted in a hospital style room with staunch walls. The green floral bedspread she had been sitting on had been changed to blank white sheets that were stretched over an uncomfortable mattress. She looked for the man who had spoken, a tall many with short brown hair dressed in a lab coat that stood a few feet from her. Carefully he reached for her hands and pulled them in front of her, cutting away the zip ties that bound her wrists together.
"How are you feeling?" he asked, setting down the scraps and picking up a clipboard.
"What happened?" she asked, feeling dazed and a little bit sick.
"Any dizziness?" the man asked avoiding her question.
"I'm just peachy thanks," she snapped at him. His writing faltered for a moment but he continued to write.
"Nothing?" he asked.
"Nothing," she said angrily, "How wait, minus the fact I was kidnapped. Where the hell am I?"
The man put down his clipboard and turned, heading for the door. Lauren stood up an attempt to go after him, but dizziness engulfed her and she collapsed onto the linoleum floor in a heap, rolling onto her back and groaning, staring at strange lights.
"Feeling sick now?" the man said, leering over her.
"Where am I?" she asked, clearly dazed. In a sweep he hauled her off the ground, one arm under her knees and the other around her shoulders and placed her on the bed.
"It's best if you stay here for a while. I'll get you some I.V. fluid," he said turning around, "Try not to move too much."
"Where am I, please," she tried again, the pleading evident in her voice. The man stopped moving all together. His shoulders tensed and she swore she saw him shaking for a brief moment before he picked up his needle again, inserting it into the crease of her elbow. She looked up at the man's face and he looked in pain as he inserted the needle. Lauren whimpered and lolled her head to the left, looking at the window that looked into a blank hallway. She was terrified.
"Please," she begged again. The man turned abruptly on his heel and exited quickly and Lauren wondered what she had said to upset him so much. Just as quickly as the door shut it opened again, this time to reveal a well dressed man with nearly white hair. He was old, very old, with a strong face and many wrinkles. He looked a healthy age of around 80 or so with strong features. His eyes were sharp and the stared at her without rest, looking her over as if she were some kind of object, rather than a person.
"So you're Lauren Bishop," he said, slowly closing the space between them. Lauren watched him watch her and he reminded her of a vulture circling their prey.
"Who are you? Where am I?" she asked him, trying to shift under his uncomfortable gaze.
"My name is Walter Bishop," he said, "And where you are, well it certainly isn't where you were."
"You're real smart," she snapped. The man's sharp eyes drew into narrow daggers and she almost flinched.
"You see Lauren," he said, "I've brought you here because my son," he spat out the word, "Failed to mention you even existed over there."
"You act like I know what you're talking about," Lauren said, trying to stifle the questions that were bubbling in her throat.
"Don't act ignorant child," he snapped, "I know you're her daughter and my son fell in love with her, which makes you my son's daughter."
"My father died."
"Did he now?" Walter said with a sickening gleam in his eyes. "How interesting that she would tell you that."
"How interesting that you don't believe me," she responded sardonically. The man frowned at her.
"You're a stubborn little brat," he commented angrily. He turned his back to her and walked towards the door. He gripped the door and then turned to look at her.
"I'll be back later with a guest," he said with a wicked smile.
"Who?"
"Your father."
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